Drew: Wha? uh, yeah.
I glanced over at him, wondering what his mom had just said to him on the phone. He winced as she yelled something that sounded like ‘irresponsible’ and ‘rude.’ He went into the other room to placate her while I turned on the stove to put the macaroni and cheese on. (I wasn’t feeling particularly creative and I didn’t have much time. Dad had been at a meeting with his contractor and would be back soon, probably in a bad mood.)
Drew returned, looking battle-worn.
Me: What’d she say?
Him: Hm, well, other than saying I was a failure as a son she said that would be fine. I can stay.
I chuckled shaking my head. Me: Sorry.
Him (shrugging): That’s ok. So do you want me to help?
I gave him an incredulous look. He laughed. Him: I was kidding. I know I can’t cook to save my life.
I turned back to the boiling water and poured the shell pasta in. He watched quietly. Him: Lots of pasta at this house.
I chuckled. Me: Just when your here, yesterday we had Shepherd’s pie.
Him: um, what’s that?